


Theraphosidae

by TooFazed



Series: Dick Grayson x Blüdhaven Rogues [4]
Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bestiality, Body Horror, Castration, Coping issues, Dry Orgasm, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Genital Mutilation, Giant Spiders, Gore, Human Incubator, Hurt No Comfort, Illusions, Loss of Control, Morbid, Other, Oviposition, Parent/Offspring Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Sex with Sentient Animals, Survivor Guilt, Vaginal Sex, live birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooFazed/pseuds/TooFazed
Summary: He was so wrong; he destroyed her, and now there is no Catalina left in that feral thing.
Relationships: Catalina Flores/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson/Spider(s)
Series: Dick Grayson x Blüdhaven Rogues [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745593
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	Theraphosidae

**Author's Note:**

> _On Blüdhaven Breaking News:_ “Tarantulas overload Wayne Heir with eggs; Experts at a loss.”
> 
> * * *
> 
> This friendly little ghost beseeches you: Read the tags carefully! 👻

_It’s not real_. _It’s not real!_ And yet… water sticks to his skin. His mattress is soaked. It feels as if raindrops are still beating down on him. _It’s not real._ He is in his apartment. He is in his room. He’s—

But there is blood on his hands and on his lips, thinned out by rain but no less real. He failed. He failed. _I—_

_Don’t talk to yourself, querido, talk to me,_ the rain whispers, _she_ whispers. Above him. Around him. Inside his head.

A thin long-fingered hand caresses his cheek, nails rasp against his skin, and he bleakly blinks into the darkness, the guilt carving his chest open like a rusty knife.

_I failed you. Utterly. Catalina, I’m so, so sor—_

_Shhhh…_

The long-fingered hand brushes down, another joining it. They push beneath his costume, nails rake along the vulnerable skin of his abdomen. The spindly fingers are cold. Always are. And he is—

_Don’t touch me, I’m…,_ what is he? What is he? What did he say then? What does he say now?

_Everything’s all right, baby, it’s all okay._ Catalina promises – her words a gentle murmur, a comfort he doesn’t want. His pants are pulled over his hips, exposing him to the cool harsh wet night.

He doesn’t fight the touch, can’t because _—_

_Numb_. _So numb._ _I … killed him, we killed—_

**_Tsk._ **

**_Tsk._ **

**_Tsk._ **

**_Tsk._ **

_I killed him._ Catalina whispers, her faint amusement weighing him down even more. He let her—

Sticky wet lips smear against his skin as she kisses him. _Now hush._

_No,_ he breaths out as she pulls back, and he tries to push up, only to be stopped by a hand on his chest. And frozen beneath her, he doesn’t know what he is saying no to, never has, and he doesn’t say it again when Catalina takes his cold limp flesh in her hand, lining it up with her heated wanton sex.

Y _ou’re my responsibility, it’s my fault, my fault…_

_Quiet, mi amor, s_ he moans, says, whispers as her sensitive skin brushes against the head of his cock. _Callado._

She sinks down on him, velvet heat, and he doesn’t want her to, _he doesn’t_ – he doesn’t move.

_That’s good. That’s right,_ she sighs. His weak flesh buried so deep inside of her, her claws digging into his skin.

_We’re free now…._ She rolls her hips. _Alive, querido…_ Long fingers splay across his lower abdomen. _Yes…_ she moves, slow and languid, circling up and down his cock. _You and me._

_He can’t hurt us anymore, baby. It’s over. It’s all over,_ she moans, movements turning faster as she fucks herself. _What is there to be afraid of now?_

Her walls clench tightly, and – _She doesn’t understand. It’s never gonna stop. Never gonna stop. Never…_

_Callado_ , Catalina whispers, moans, as she rides him, sticky lips opening against his numb mouth. Dick’s breath hitches, cold shudder descending his limbs that never seems to reach his hot wet cock trapped so firmly inside her folds.

Something touches his tongue. Tiny claws. Long crooked legs brush against the insides of his cheeks, the roof of his mouth. Six of them. Hairy and thick. Dick gags as they reach into his throat, tries to tighten what can’t be. Catalina forces his cock deeper, rides him harder, his balls pressing against her, her hands interlacing with his twitching hands, keeping him down.

Unbothered, the creature slips down his tight throat, bulging his skin out, forcing a sting that makes his eyes water.

Catalina chuckles above him, the sounds echo as he chokes on the being – _the spider_ as it crawls through his constricting throat into his open chest. A shudder descends across his arms. He can’t feel it anymore, _but he knows_.

Catalina wipes the spit from the corner of his mouth. Her lips are twisted, long hair thin like spider webs. Her mask is gone. A multitude of red round eyes revealed. All eight of them stare at him, reflect his face. His numbness. His shock. His grief. His guilt. His desperation. His weakness. His pain. His love.

_Face me,_ she breathes, squeezing his cock so tightly it nearly hurts, make him arch up against her with a pained sound.

Her long fingers dig into the skin of her stomach, stretching it out as she pulls at it. Her naval opens into a sticky slit that’s left gaping by her hands. Slick trips down her torso, pools between his legs where she isn’t already touching him. It burns across his skin.

White bubbles are visible in the furthest corners of her cushioning pinkish flesh.

_You fertilized them, mi amor, so long ago. They need their proper nest. Need their daddy to take care of them._

Her long sharp nails rip into his shoulders as she rises from his cock. The disgusting wetness sticks to his half-hard flesh, and her grip seems to stay, never letting him go, calling for him to give her more.

He nearly begs her to hold him again.

Blood trails down his shoulders in thin rivulets, her painted nails breaking skin. Her mouth stretches wide around her emerging fangs, sticky lipstick smears across his lips. The sharp appendages slip into his mouth, punctuate his cheeks to pump her venom into him.

He should fight. He should, but… not even his tongue rises as he stares up into the night. Unseeing. Numb. Rain drips into his eyes like shards of glass.

The pulsing pain stays as Catalina pulls back, a glint in her eyes. Apart from the thrumming inflammation, he feels nothing. His head rests heavily on the still wet mattress, his half-lidded gaze is stuck on the thickly webbed ceiling.

Didn’t he clean his room just three days ago? Since when–? 

Sharp fingernails tease the thin skin of his lower abdomen. Catalina groaning appreciatingly above him.

_They sing inside me, mi amor. Craving for their papi, asking why you left us. Why you abandoned us._

She envelopes him again, something thick and hairy slipping out on both sides of her pulsing vagina, gliding against his balls, and curving down to his ass. Catalina’s weight settles fully onto him as a breathy moan escapes her dark red lips, her walls stretched wide. One of the slightly bend sticks presses against his puckered entrance, just to push right into his ass, tip small but every ridge expands it, hairs rubbing against his vulnerable insides. His hips rise as he is pushed apart, slack body moving with the intrusion.

Dick wishes he could escape the strange and harsh feeling of being pressed apart. Catalina’s fluids barely ease the way.

The appendage fully seated inside him starts to move, spinning in slow circular motions, massaging his entrance open, brushing against his prostate. The other rotates as well, kneads the soft skin between his tailbone and anus from side to side, his muscles reduced to mendable dough between the thick hairy batons. Sparks of pleasure course through him, make his body jerk.

Catalina hums happily as he begins to shake, his cock reacting to the stimulations, and then the second appendage pushes into him too, faster than the first.

The stretch rips at his insides, too much. He wants them out, wants to pull away, wants to scream.

They begin to move inside his pulsing, aching ass in tandem, spinning liquid threads that push deep into his rectum as Catalina rubs his cock into her cunt.

_So beautiful._

The liquid grows silken against his ass and soon enough his passage grows stuffed with the lightest wool.

_Our children want to be with you._

Something almost fleshy pushes past his cruelly stretched rim, pushes into him, snaking a little further as Catalina leans over him, releasing his pulsing cock from her wet folds once more. Her hands drop beside his head inhumanly, arms rotated inwards then out like the legs of her namesake.

_Don’t pout, guapo. You need to take care of what belongs to you._

Dick arches with the deep intrusion, ass propped up and stuffed, cotton spreading out. He gags when the spider in his chest skitters up and out of his body.

Catalina’s red multiple eyes catch sight of it, fangs clicking. Then blood splashes across his face, sharp knobby fangs separating the head.

Catalina smiles, lips bloody as her appendages work him further open.

_A lesser male. So much lesser. Couldn’t even fertilize my eggs. I killed him. I killed them._

He had failed her. Failed her so much.

_Catalina, I should have never—_

_Shush now, quiet. No should haves, would haves… They are ready. They have wanted to be with you for so long._

Something pushes through the squishy fleshy tube, widening his passage so much razor like pain spikes through him as he is forcefully parted. His eyes widen, scream muffled by her wet lips. With a gush of fluid and advancing the web inside him further, he feels the thing nestle inside his rectum as heavy and round as a baseball. Catalina squeezes his body with her legs, then parts from his lips, her cunt slipping back over his twitching cock.

_Yes, yes, take them._ _Take them all from me._

The next one pushes against his entrance, fresh pain racing up his spine, hips rising in a desperate attempt to escape the sting. It doesn’t matter, all he does is grind his cock deeper into Catalina, turning her more eager. The egg already inside him is shoved past where he can feel it as the second one takes its place. His belly distorts as it fills out his colon, firmly weights him down. Sweat builds on his skin as he is left gasping, body tightening with the third egg pushing against his entrance, trying to stop the advance and failing.

On and on it goes, the eggs coming faster the easier his loosening sphincter opens for them, and the more excited Catalina becomes. She squeezes his cock, rides him without rising. Her heated folds repel him, will never not, but the eggs debasing him glide smoothly past his burning puffed out ring by now, brush against his prostate so lightly that he is powerless to the tickling stimulation, his cock desperately twitching and gushing within her.

_I can feel you. Oh, yes! Come inside me, mi amor._

Catalina moans above him, and his hips begin to spasm, fueling the warmth that makes him slack, the eggs lightly shifting, stimulating his swollen prostate on and on and on as he is forced to come. Catalina moans. Slick runs down between his balls as her pussy pulses in tandem to his cock, milking him out. Their fluids mix.

Dick can feel the strain of his belly, body too heavy and numb to move. The last egg nearly falls out when her slimy ovipositor pulls away, but the spinnerets wrap a net over his bulging entrance swiftly, keeping the egg stuck, twitching swollen rim stretched wide around it.

Catalina takes his hand, lays it on his stomach to make him feel the bumps beneath his distended skin. Countless eggs stretch him out and follow the lines of his endlessly stacked intestines. They feel soft beneath his hand, fragile. His shallow breathing cradles and rocks them.

**_No_ ** _, this is— this is— **He failed her.**_

_You make me feel so good,_ Catalina whispers into his ear, leaving his sticky palm pressed to his bloating belly to feel the eggs as she swings her leg over his head. The spinnerets push into his mouth, reaching the back of his throat, spinning, and spinning thin threats down the small tube, forcing him to swallow. It swells fluffy inside of him. Feels like choking on candy floss in reverse. The wide slit on her flexed flat belly opens again, pinkish shiny transparent tube pushing into his mouth, spinnerets holding him open. He gags as his esophagus is filled with the slimy flesh.

Then the first egg pushes the thin tube out, pressing against his lips, forcing his jaw wide just to get stuck at the back of his throat, making him gag until the next egg forcefully pushes it down further only for both of them to wedge. Tears prick at his eyes, the remaining slivers of pain haunting his stretched sphincter just an echo getting overtaken by the raw burning of his throat, his inability to breathe. The first spike of true fear bolts through his mind, and it changes nothing.

One weighty egg at a time fills him up despite his suffering, facial muscles growing numb with the strain, eyes barely open. Catalina twitters happily above him as he suffocates, his chest jumping, making her lightly bounce above him as his throat is lined, stretched out cruelly. The eggs eventually beginning to fall into his stomach, so heavy and sudden they make him cramp, eyes rolling. She laughs as the pain takes his sight, and as his ears begin to ring from the muscular strain, shutting him out.

Eventually, the appendages slowly pull out, leave his slack jaw arching, head falling to the side.

One egg too much tumbles out of his numb mouth, strong legs tightening around his head to stop it’s fall and failing. _No!,_ Catalina cries out, net spit over his mouth with bruising force, filaments reaching into his nostrils and across his bulging throat.

_No-no-no-no-no!_ **_More! More space!_** _More space for my babies!_ Catalina screams, her red round eyes wild, her hair in disarray. Delirious in her despair.

Dick doesn’t think about it, doesn’t know if he can think at all. Insides stretched; eggs rolling, his breathing reduced to a thin oxygen flow he swears is only imagination.

Catalina’s fangs touch the tip of his cock, cruelly pushing into him or trying to but splitting his flesh instead. It burns, feels worse than suffocating and easier at once. The slick spinneret beats him open violently, new pain ripping him out of his numbness, his stuffed body convulsing and jerking. The second one pushes into his blood slick new opening to squirt out liquid webs. The substance fills his bladder, feels like he needs to piss until it fluffs up, then it just feels wide and uncomfortable and wrong until _they_ push in, bulging his bladder out and filling his balls too when the space still isn’t enough.

Thin ripped pieces of flesh cling to his pubic arch, blood slick as they faintly move against his egg-filled scrotum. Only two fitting inside, replacing his balls and stretching the flesh out thinly, brushing against the bed.

Dick distantly feels the panic, is sick with it, but… Catalina took his manhood away long ago, the first time she ever touched him on that rainy rooftop, Desmond’s still warm corpse lying only a few feet away as she fucked herself on him as if he wanted it.

Catalina sighs shakily, collapsing above him, relieved to have found a place for her children. Her mouth is blood slick, but she caresses his distended skin lovingly as she kisses his covered mouth, rolls him onto his stomach after a while. Fingers tease along the web she left between his ass cheeks, trying to push the egg stretching his rim further in. All of them move with the pressure, faintly massaging and heating his insides.

Dick wishes he could come.

_They will flatten if we keep them in one position for too long, mi amor,_ she whispers lovingly, fingers splayed back over his bumpy throat to force his half-open eyes to look at her, _We need to… oh. Oh!_

Catalina pushes up excitedly, her legs locking back around his head, her cunt against his lips. She drags him up the wall, spinnerets attaching his webbed mouth to the thickly webbed ceiling with strong filaments. His eyes cross, eggs shifting up, one forcing his jaw apart, the one stretching his ass popping inside. His sphincter spasms around the nothingness, his hips jerk, legs dancing. He dangles there until he doesn’t, spinnerets connecting the web sticking to his ass with the floor, leaving him stretched out in the air, kept as an egg lined pillar in front of the bed.

Catalina coos, settles kisses along the line of his bumpy throat, down his chest to the bulge of his stomach, following the egg field of his intestines just to kiss the big lump of his bladder and caress his egg stretched balls.

_Such a beautiful wrapping,_ she whispers, kneading them. The eggs are so heavy they stretch his sack far, far down, and his thighs begin to tremble with the wicked stimulation. Catalina’s grin stretches over his thickly webbed crotch and then she lets go, to caress over his bloated belly, massaging the lumps as she sucks at his throat, her dripping pussy rubbing against his crotch, wetting the silk and making him itch _._

_Such a beautiful daddy,_ she moans against him, her breasts rubbing against his chest, and she keens when she comes, against him, her fangs clicking in front of her face, and her juices drip down between his legs.

She inspects him again and again, tittering around him, making sure her babies are safe.

Dick feels when the eggs begin to droop, threatening to deform. The weight starts to shift downwards, gathers heavily in his belly and ass.

Catalina makes him crawl, her venom gone, only her cruelties remaining, weighing him down just as much, just like they always have.

They shift inside of him, massaging his insides as he mindlessly shuffles across the floor, swaying and on the verge of collapse as she guides him along by the web stretching out of his mouth, tugging at the eggs lining his throat.

And he shuffles and shuffles behind her, pissing or cumming and pissing and cumming, only not. If he were, it would be eggs and silk.

His rim is stretched wide open again, the egg always seeming precariously close to falling out as it tethers on the edge of the sensitive muscle, but the spiderwebs across his rear hold firm, pushing it back and forth with every movement, orgasms raking his corrupted body, stomach and belly cramping to keep the eggs round, and nice, and healthy.

His mutilated front is no different, stretched open by the egg trying to emerge from his tightly packed body, wetness oozing even through the firm webbing, only irritating the bleeding pink skin further.

_Such a good father. Taking care of my babies. Of our babies._

His insides begin to tickle, then to tremble as he crawls and crawls and crawls, and Catalina pushes him back onto the bed when she notices, her excitement palpable as she spreads his trembling form out.

The nestlings teem beneath his skin, not desiring to leave their father yet as their bodies molt, inflaming his insides, and then, as if deciding as one, they suddenly soar through his widened and abused cavities. Tiny and plentiful. Tickling his insides, making his body itch and writhe beneath their mother as he is forced to come.

A surge up his throat explodes inside his mouth, pushes his jaw open. His children crawl over his lips, down his body, up into his nostrils, across his eyes in search of their own space. They shove out of his deformed urethra, leaving his scrotum behind as empty thin collapsing flesh as they drop and crawl over his thighs. They stream out of his widened ass in all directions to shadow the webbed walls.

Dick tries to breathe, doesn’t know if he still knows how that works.

He does.

Free of most of the weight, Dick slowly manages to push up despite the pain and how open his body is. His skin is sweaty, and his insides coated with the mess of silk and creamy remains caused by the spiderlings molting. It tastes like wet protein powder on his tongue, froths, and clumps in his mouth, sticks his passages together with thick and stringy web.

Some lumps remain caught in him, and he flattens his hand against his belly to push them out. The cramps make him scream, stomach gurgling. His brood reacts to his anguish, rushes along his walls to gather in the corners, giving him space.

They make him sick.

Between his thighs sit two pieces of thin flared stumpy skin betraying where his urethra now begins, the canal a gaping and bloody thing, spasming open before closing again, ripped rim bulging out. Dick tries to hold it open without touching the oozing pinkish flesh as he pushes. A waft of coldness seems to numb him, sight bleeding black.

Most of the unhedged misshapen eggs escape there, sullied with blood, brown in color or white, and squishy. Pus swims around them.

Dick bites his lip till it bleeds.

With the pain back to an unpleasant acidic burn, the spiderlings dare to come close again. Some crawl over his sweaty skin, ingesting the remaining protein, others explore the wonder that is a father and egg sac in one.

Dick can’t think about them yet. They have left his insides, but Catalina’s decay remains, and he can’t let it fester again.

Close to fainting, lips numb, spiderlings traversing across his skin like living moles, he dares to grasp for the misshapen scrotum still messily filled with wet rot.

He squeezes, and it streams out, the burning pain nearly making his fingers slip as his body slackens. His pained moan catches Catalina’s attention in a way his scream didn’t, and the spiderlings rush away, fearing her red gaze and leaving his skin itching.

**_No!_** Catalina wails, catching sight of the mashed rotten eggs his aching body struggles to expel. To Dick, they reveal their nature. Everything coming from her flesh is rotten, no matter that they crawled out of him to sit on his walls and on him, steadily molting into something bigger.

_All of them have to make it!_

Dick knows what’s coming before the fangs try to push into his neck. He holds her first attack off just barely, abused body trembling beneath her, only for him to slacken with wide eyes once he finds her desperate gaze on him.

_He can’t._ The guilt still eats him up, rips into him with gnarly teeth. He couldn’t save her. He can’t push her away again. She needs him. Always has, always will.

He was so wrong; he destroyed her, and now there is no Catalina left in that feral thing seeking to mount him, only the Tarantula that seeks to claim him to develop her thousands of fertile eggs.

Her appendages spear into the small bloody opening between his legs without regard, stretching him further open despite his anguished cries and desperate attempts to push her off. New eggs force their way inside his tight bladder and tighter balls. She stuffs him full far quicker than Catalina did, pumping and pumping, no humanity remaining as she fills his ass the second nothing else fits into his ruptured front. He curls and spasms helplessly as his skin grows bumpy with eggs, countless dry orgasms forced from his malfunctioning body, his eyes rolling. Then, with his head pushed back flat against the bed by spinnerets tearing his mouth open, everything comes to a stuttering halt, his senses ripped from him as the eggs begin to line his burning throat again, spit drooling from the corners of his cracking, bleeding lips.

Tarantula leaves no space untouched, wraps him up with thick silken threads to keep the eggs secure. She ties him against the wall to roll him round and round with her thick and large hairy legs. Her silk sticking to his walls, to his floor and his ceiling and him.

His second brood begins to develop beneath his skin with a buzzing matching the excitement of their mother, crashing like waves against the silk once they are ready, eating away at it to flood out of him, leaving his insides aching and itching and ruined. His tunnels yawn with creamy molt and cobwebs.

Some straggling hatchlings take longer, and once the last trips from the corner of his slack mouth, the waiting spinnerets thrust back into the depths of his opening, ovipositor following, all three appendages working together in tandem to line the eggs along his cruelly widened passage again.

Stretching out with the familiar torture, his lower parts relax as he suffocates, bladder emptying, red-brown slick gushing out of the maltreated hole Catalina created.

His muscular sacs are defective egg cases at best, but Tarantula doesn’t give up. With every new fill, a little more spiderlings hatch, eggs slowly adapting to the tight space of his pelvic pouches to use his body’s full utility.

Steadily, the cycle runs its course. Batches of his brood developing inside him, swelling like the tide again and again. The long night turns into day, and the numbness and anguish slowly loosen their potency. The cruelties done to his body remain an echo in his mind as he lies curled together on his wetted bed, skin clammy, legs sticky and wet, whole frame shaking and dehydrated. His throat sticks together as he swallows, cracked lips touching. His bed is soaked with a mixture of bodily fluids he doesn't dare to examine, the acid on his tongue and in his nose tells him that he would only start to retch again.

He pushes up on shaking hands and knees, collapses against the headboard, nearly expects his hatchlings to scuttle away, and gags at the thought, inhuman sound escaping him as he rips at his clammy skin, fingers digging into his arms and nails carving into his belly. He can still feel the way they teemed, lumps moving inside him, distending, and bloating his stomach and belly. He remembers the stragglers, the crawling of their tiny legs, the cruel spinnerets above him waiting to thrust into him again.

His tired gaze finds the broken vial of the antidote on the floor. He doesn't even remember reaching for it. The terrors of that long night forced his mind into a corner the second the fear toxin hit.

He keeps his gaze off his cock, can feel it's dangling weight, but … but it shouldn't be there anymore.

_He doesn't want it._

He can still feel her around it, can feel its pulsing as it betrayed him for a second time, impregnating her without his want.

_The damn piece of flesh is no better than rotten egg._

On that thought, he stumbles towards the bathroom, trembling and stomach twisting as he remembers the russet molasses streaming out between his legs. He needs to clean himself, _~~needs to get the eggs out~~._

His vision shifts on the way, shadows dancing in the corners of his eyes, scurrying across his walls.

Exhausted and sick, he catches himself on the bathtub, crumbling over it with his chest heaving, weak legs, and feet struggling to find purchase against the cool tiled floor. Acid drips out of his mouth, nothing inside him left from the skimpy meal he ate just before patrol who knows how many hours ago.

_Actually._

The lump moves in his chest, body starting to tremble again. New sweat begins to drench his skin.

_No! It’s over!_

His throat bulges, familiar hairy legs touch the back of his tongue as the spider crawls out of his chest into his mouth, over his lips, tiny claws pricking up his cheek.

Dick tries to rip it off nearly falling, but before he can do more than touch it, his body harshly convulses forward for a second time.

The hairs of the spider shed, itching against his skin, lodging into his eye, and forcing it to water. A second tarantula crawls through his mouth to freedom as he contorts, hands gripping the edge of the bathtub so tight it hurts. His tongue gets dragged out by the spider’s weight as it lets itself down into the bathtub with a sturdy dragline just to stare up at him as he pants in fear, expecting another lump.

_How many are left? How many didn’t he get out?_ **How many? How many? How many?**

Its forelegs push up into the air as if to wave, swaying to and fro like an enthusiastic flight line marshaller. Its body shimmers blue, only on its abdomen its mothers’ orange-red remains.

_An illusion._

No matter how real the spider sticking to him feels and how vivid the one in front of him looks, they didn’t develop in his cavities. They aren’t his children.

Large long shadows spread over him, brushing a breeze along his sweaty back, cooling his skin. Two massive hairy legs push up against the tiled wall and stick to it. They too shimmer blue.

_It's an illusion._

But the big spinnerets pop inside him harshly and without warning, making him cry out in pain and shooting out their sticky liquids without any resistance of his body.

_He just needs to wake up._

The ovipositor snakes through the evolving web, first egg spreading his gaping rim easily to settle snuggly into his accommodating passage.

_No-no-no!_

A smaller spider crawls up his leg, positioning itself over his urethra, tattered rags of his penile flesh pressed against him by the weight of her as she nestles between his thighs like nothing else ever belonged there but her bulbous body. The spinnerets push into him, weaving faster than the thicker ones already in his ass, twirling, and beating against the already so damaged wet flesh.

It burns.

Dick tries to push her away from his disfigured aching passage with a shrieking wet cry, but his hands are caught by the thick and bruising web as soon as he moves, his sons making sure he cannot escape as his daughters load him with his their first batch of fertilized eggs.

His trapped body heats to the unrestrained stimulations no matter how callous they are. His useless orgasm builds up again, every bit and piece of pleasure escaping through the pain tugging the heat to incomprehensible intensity. The hollow sounds escaping his damaged throat don’t reach his ears.

A third daughter sails down from the ceiling, the son on his eye scuttling away to his sweaty neck. It only leaves him a terrific moment to realize that the sight of his right eye is gone before spinnerets push his mouth apart, her ovipositor plugging his throat, and her hairy body taking his vision as she presses over his face with her legs tightly curled around his head.

More hairs lodge into his widened wet eyes before they can fall closed.

He sacks upon the bathtub, a venomous bite into his neck loosening the tension of his muscles as the son crawls down his spine to drop off; His duty done.

The maw-daughter clutching onto his head is smaller than Catalina and Tarantula, her eggs slip through his throat right down into his stomach, not getting stuck at all. Just a steady drop, thump, drop. Wet soft marbles piling up inside him. His throat swallows reflexively at first, then gobbles them down, stretched as it is, used as it is to be lined. Eagerness to fill his stomach builds in his chest, conquers his mind.

_He failed their mother. He can’t fail them too._

Silk spreads around his slumped frame, his sons securing his slack body to the bathtub and the floor while his daughters continue to laden the pits that they were bred in.

His tongue is pushed out by the eggs in his throat, spinnerets beating against it as they continue to shoot liquid threats. He feels the soft squishy tissue of her incubator, his wet tongue touching the rough hairy abdomen, feeling her exertion as she bumps against it with every pulse of her body.

Eggs begin to gather in his mouth, pushing more spit out. 

The large eggs of his entrails-daughter expand his rectum and colon, mendable enough to slip into his small intestines and traverse along the endless curves till they collide with the smaller eggs already stuffing his stomach. It jerks him up.

Shrill creaking noises escape his daughters as they squabble over the restricted space, making him sway with their agitation. Their insistence to stay on both ends forces the eggs to pile up within him further and further, creating pressure and tightness that forces a tremble, threatens to tear his insides apart. His expanding, clumpy belly brushes against the cool wall of the bathtub, fuller than it has ever been before as the eggs strain to burst out of him.

Lax body searching for added relief, his orgasm finally crests, tiny bodily spasms rocking the round and smooth eggs.

Elevated by his response, his prostatic-daughter floods the two-way street through his gland with thousands of small eggs at once, the surge so similar to sperm and piss that it propels his hips to jerk harder and faster, meager control slipping further away.

The thin deflated meat balloon between his legs puffs up proudly, sensitive skin brushing against his daughter’s rough hairy body and making him jerk against her with another sudden burst of fresh want.

The different sized eggs roll against his swollen prostate from all sides, squishing the helplessly swollen organ. His body arches with the inconceivable torment, whole body spasming and cramping erratically.

His useless eyes roll back, head brushing against his entrail-daughters tummy. His jaw grows slacker, and his maw-daughter exhilarates in pumping more eggs inside of him to fill the new bits of space.

Finally full, his daughters shut his overloaded passages as one, not letting any egg escape his tightly packed body. His tongue is pressed to the egg by the thick filament, fluttering against the soft ball, teasing it to life as his web-cossetted body dances in unbearable ecstasy, the rest of his daughters a black teeming mass awaiting their turn.

His brood will see to it that their thousand-fold offspring hatches within him too. Young as they are, they retain the excitement of their birth, remember the tight hot caverns of their father gently guiding them to life. Never will they choose another egg sac — and their offspring will think much the same.

🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️ 🕷️


End file.
